


Here On the Ground

by missbeizy



Series: Kitty!Kurt [2]
Category: Glee
Genre: AU, Cat/Human Hybrids, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-11
Updated: 2015-08-11
Packaged: 2018-04-14 04:01:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4549614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missbeizy/pseuds/missbeizy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What are things like after Kurt moves in with a new foster family and he and Blaine try to date?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Here On the Ground

Their dates go off without a hitch until Blaine takes in a dog hybrid.

He isn't sure why it didn't occur to him that this might be an issue, but one moment he's standing on Kurt's foster family's doorstep, a bright green pot of organic, homegrown grass an affectionate offering between his hands and the next, Kurt—broad and tall and strong and neatly furred—is wrinkling up his damp cat nose, his ears swiveled back, his tail a fuzzy bat standing up along his spine.

"No, Blaine!" he says. "No, no, no, what you've done?" He almost slams the door in Blaine's face.

Blaine finally realizes what he must smell like and how stupid it was to pick Kurt up right after playing all morning with the hybrid who moved into Blaine's spare room the day before. "Wait!" He puts a hand on the door. "I'm sorry.  I have a dog hybrid living with me this week.  Just a foster.  I promise."

Kurt's eyes narrow. "I said no dogpeople.  I  _said_."

"I know, sweetie.  But he needed my help.  That's what I do, remember?"

Kurt's tail has deflated somewhat, and swishes behind him thoughtfully as he takes in the pot of grass Blaine is holding and the neatly pressed clothes he is wearing.  Something warm and eager steels over his revolted expression.  He glances from side to side and then relaxes, his shoulders falling.

"I go.  But you wash first." Kurt nods, as if this is the final word, turns on his padded feet, and walks into the house.

Blaine follows, trying to hide a smile.  He knows that look.  He knows that posture. Kurt is crazy about him, and when understanding fails, he knows he can rely on this to get them through.

He pauses to say hello to Kurt's foster mother, Lanna, a woman in her sixties who is currently working through what looks like an aggressive cardio routine to a work-out DVD in the living room.

"Hello, dear!" she calls, breathing heavily. "You two go on and get out of here.  He's changed outfits six times since he woke up.  Lord help me.  There's tea in the kitchen if you're thirsty."

"Thanks, Lanna. Looking great."

"Feeling great!"

She just may be in better shape than he is.

Kurt is crouched on a brightly-colored beanbag chair beside the most elaborate food-and-water dish arrangement Blaine has ever seen—a multi-tiered wooden affair with a water circulation system, a dispenser for food pellets, and a neat stainless steel surface for other food, all atop a rug that resembles modern art.  

Kurt tries to act as if he's indifferent to Blaine's entrance, but his spine bends and his ears stand up when Blaine circles the island to get to him.

"Hey." Blaine puts the grass down on the counter. "Can I have a hello?"

Kurt's mouth twitches at its corners.  He looks up at Blaine with those beautiful blue-green eyes and Blaine drinks him in—his thick beige coat fades into dense, milky flesh along his front and out to his extremities, tufting up into dark brown at the tips of his ears.  He's lean and muscular, and when he stands up fully on his bent legs that end in paw-shaped feet, he's both taller and wider than Blaine.  Despite the fact that his genitals remain hidden by a furry sheath, he has always insisted on wearing clothes, to a degree of investment that is rare in hybrids.  Today he's wearing a pair of red shorts and a matching vest with white stripes, and there's a heart-shaped broach pinned to his chest.  

"Maybe if you say sorry for dogperson." Kurt inches closer and then rises—and rises and rises, until he's hovering over Blaine and Blaine goes hot down the back of his neck.  Kurt is so shockingly masculine and yet somehow delicately beautiful at the same time.  It's been a week since they last saw each other, and Blaine wants to feel those thick shoulders under his hands rather badly.

"I'm sorry, sweetie.  Give me a second." He uses the sink to wash up to his elbows.

That done, Kurt makes sure they're alone before leaning in from behind and dragging his nose along the curve of Blaine's ear. "Really mean it?"

Blaine's heart races.  Kurt's body gives off heat like a furnace, and it's drawing him in.  He turns to face Kurt, a smile teasing his lips into a curl. "Really."

That's all it takes to get Kurt's claw-shaped fingers to curve into his polo shirt, and Kurt's tricky, soft mouth against his neck.  He's dwarfed by Kurt's body and happy to be so—he exhales, tips his head back, his toes curling in his boat shoes as Kurt kisses and places sandpaper licks down his neck that are followed by nuzzles of the underside of his jaw.

"Make you smell good, right." He nips Blaine's chin, and Blaine inhales sharply. "Like mine.  All mine, Blaine."

Blaine's body tenses with sudden and undeniable desire—the way Kurt smells and feels is overwhelming, and when his sharp fingertips scrape down the back of Blaine's neck Blaine is consumed by the urge to have him, or be had by him.  The details are indistinct; the need is not.

"We'll miss the show if we don't leave now," he gasps out.

Kurt lifts his head. His pupils are blown and he keeps licking out over his pointed canines as if his tongue has better ideas of where it should be right now. "Good sounds.  Which one?"

"Rent.  And then I thought we'd try that hybrid-friendly restaurant again.  They have a new chef."

Kurt's ears flicker. "Ooh, good.  Good." He smiles, playing with the back of Blaine's shirt. "And then we be friendly."

Since Kurt moved out, they haven't had much privacy to speak of, and Blaine hasn't pushed for it—when they began dating, Blaine wanted to get to know Kurt without giving in constantly to the magnetic pull between their bodies, and this proved easy, between Kurt's fosters always being around and Blaine having a steady stream of hybrids living with him. But it's been almost a month, and making out in his car and sometimes in bathrooms of restaurants or theaters has become unsatisfying, especially considering how much sex they had before.

Right now, though, Blaine wants to show Kurt a good time, so he takes his mind out of the gutter by offering Kurt the pot of grass.

"I grew it myself," he says. "It's your favorite blend."

Kurt's tail flicks as he takes the pot in his hands and presses his nose to the strands. His eyelids quiver. "Delicious.  Blaine does right—and you made yourself.  It's nice." He smiles and rubs his nose against Blaine's. "I love."

Warmth suffuses Blaine from head to toe. "I love you, too."

"For later, though." Kurt sets the pot down.  He tends to go at the grass in an undignified manner until it's gone, and Blaine knows he would rather not do that in front of him.

On their way out of the house, Kurt gets a pat from Lanna, and he headbutts her hand.

"Have fun, you two," she says.

In public, they do modify their behavior to a certain degree—they can't cuddle and kiss and act like a couple, but Blaine is able to keep a hand on his "pet", and Kurt can act like himself.  

The theaters have special seating for people who own hybrids, and they've come to accept this arrangement.  Blaine watches Kurt as often as the stage, loving every surprised twitch and giggle and tail flick.  At times Kurt's mouth simply hangs open in awe, his eyes wide, and sometimes his paws shift as if he could reach out and bat something on the stage itself.  He's enthralled by live performances, and Blaine is enthralled by him.

He's always putty in Blaine's hands after concerts or shows—full of wonder and gratitude.  Today, he's so content that he even compliments the hybrid-friendly restaurant's decor as they're seated.

The food is excellent—simple in preparation to suit a hybrid's digestion but wonderfully gourmet.  Blaine knows he's made the right choice when Kurt begins to purr halfway through the salad course.

The table is set low and ringed with soft-cushioned benches so they can eat together at the same level, with cutlery for the humans and bowls shaped for easy scooping or oral consumption for the hybrids.  Kurt has taken to eating with his hands, though he uses the damp towels set out for cleaning their hands more often than any hybrid Blaine has observed in these establishments.

"It's amazing, right?" Blaine asks.

"Best I had," Kurt says.  

They take their time, sharing food and drawing out each course.  Blaine can see what a lovely time Kurt is having, and he has no specific curfew so there's no reason to rush.

By the time they finish it's just after nine.  They walk back to Blaine's car in the dark, and Blaine does nothing to discourage the protective, muscular arm Kurt puts around him.  He listens to the pat-shush of Kurt's paws on the sidewalk and feels utterly content.  He adores the time they spend together.  He feels himself with Kurt, even when their natures clash, and he knows Kurt feels the same way.

As usual, after starting the car and letting Kurt fiddle with the music until he finds something he likes, they talk.  Kurt tells him about the events his fosters have taken him to, about the new humans and hybrids he's met, going into finicky detail about food and aesthetics and personalities until Blaine's sides hurt from laughing.  Blaine tells Kurt about rehearsal and the drama between his co-workers and updates him on Rachel, who Kurt has been interested in since she encouraged Blaine to pursue him.

There's a confidence in Kurt's voice tonight, though, that feels new, and Blaine wonders about it until a lull in the conversation leads to Kurt's big, warm hand settling on his knee.

"Blaine, I have a talk—a thing to say.  Lanna tells me when I move into her den a lot about relationships, about humans, about—life together.  She tells—told it's more than mating and silly things.  So since then I am happy to do what we—we have done.  It's nice." He smiles, almost bashfully, and looks down at where his fingers are stroking over Blaine's leg. "I like it very much, the places we go and the food, very delicious, most of—of the time."

Blaine laughs. "Yeah, sometimes it's a miss."

"True.  So—I think you feel the same."

"I do.  I have so much fun with you."

Kurt's ears flick once, nervously, and Blaine is suddenly just as nervous about what he's going to say. "Also Lanna tells me if it makes me feel good to act more like a human—to think more about what I do before I do—this is okay.  That I don't  _need_  to, but if I want—it's okay."

Blaine frowns. "Is something wrong?"

"Control. Is—control, I understand what this means now.  I like it.  I like—" He struggles, and then makes a frustrated chirping noise before biting his lips shut. "I like being better; for me, and for you."

"Oh, honey.  I love you just the way you are.  However you want to be." Tears well up in Blaine's eyes—he's touched, but also aching inside at this confession.  Does Kurt feel lacking?  Does he think he needs to be more human to satisfy Blaine?

"This is good, but no worry.  I am happy.  So I think before I do more now, so I need tell—to say to you something because we different than before, when I stay in your den and we—" His fur bristles around his ears and face, the hybrid equivalent of a blush. "We mate a lot."

"Oh.  Okay." The tenderness Blaine feels morphs into a craving for this new topic.

"My heat time is soon." Kurt fidgets. "Lanna and Greg are like mother and father to me, so not them, and they have—toys for my heat time, but.  I don't like these.  And maybe what—date doesn't mean  _mate_ , for Blaine, and maybe you don't want—" He begins to breathe a little faster. "But I feel already this coming, and I want—" His sharp canines press into his bottom lip.  Blaine can't  _breathe_. "I want you so much.  Want you take care of me, and you are good at this, so if maybe this one time—"

"Oh my god, honey, stop.  Stop for a second and listen to me, okay?" Blaine threads his small, soft fingers through Kurt's larger, harder ones. "I haven't stopped mating with you  _because_  we're dating. Dating is something two people do when they want to get to know each other because they like each other—and mating can be a part of that.  I just wanted you to know, since we mated so soon after we met, that I wanted more than that.  You seemed okay with this, so I kept doing it."

Kurt's eyelashes flutter.  His chest heaves, and Blaine isn't surprised when, a moment later, Kurt pounces his lap and sends the car rocking side to side. "You do this for me, just because you—you don't want me to think you only want sex?" he asks, staring down at Blaine.  

"A lot of people think hybrids are just pets or sex toys.  You know that, honey.  We talked about that, and you talked about it with your new family, too." Blaine slides his arms around Kurt's waist. "To me, you're a person.  A beautiful, amazing person, and I wanted you to feel that way, too."

Kurt becomes excited in an obvious and uncontrollable way—he's purring and twitching and his tail is batting the steering wheel—and when he manages to stop rubbing his face all over Blaine's face he sighs, "Blaine, you are good, but sometimes you are not very smart," and smashes their lips together.

Blaine groans.  They haven't kissed on the lips all night—kissing like this is third or fourth on Kurt's list of ways to show affection, as his hybrid urges are often stronger when physicality is involved—and the sharp, hungry lunges that Kurt makes for him now set his blood on fire in seconds.  He presses his fingertips up Kurt's spine, then down, digging in at the base of his tail.

"Oh," Kurt moans.  He arches his back and his tail stiffens. "Taste so  _good_."

In an attempt to make the kiss less twitchy—and therefore less dangerous for Blaine's mouth—Blaine cups Kurt's face in his hands and grips behind his jaw, guiding his lips into a slower, more intent motion. Kurt's back melts beneath his hand at this, and his whole body vibrates with delicious purrs that sink into Blaine's skin.  Blaine kisses him carefully, and when he's breathing with less excitement, licks into his mouth, dragging his tongue around Kurt's prickly one. The sensation is incredible, and the high-pitched whimpers Kurt makes in response spur him on.

"B-Blaine," Kurt whispers.  He's shaking, and Blaine realizes he's been rubbing his rear end back into the steering wheel for a while now—his shorts are soaked through at the back. " _Blaine_ , I—I'm messy.  Sorry." If he could move he'd be cleaning himself, Blaine knows.

Blaine is so hard he can't think straight. "Would you like to go back to my house?"

" _Dogpeople_!" Kurt whines. "If they sniff me, I will swat, I will!  No matter what."

"We could go to your house."

"No, no, I—don't want parents to hear." He hunkers down, the fur on his cheeks standing on end, so sweetly embarrassed that Blaine has to kiss him.  He turns his face against Blaine's and whispers, "At yours I can be very loud, I know."

_Fuck._

"Oh my god, yeah—just, let me drive."

Blaine isn't sure how he completes the drive home without running a light or stop sign, at the very least—but before he thinks about this miracle he's fumbling with his house keys, Kurt wrapped around him, blatantly humping his ass and chewing softly on the back of his neck.

His resident hybrid is dead to the world in the spare room (miracle number two), and though Kurt makes a face at the dog scent he's too far gone into lust to complain.  He can't be suffering from more than a fraction of his actual heat, but his eyes are glazed and his pants are wet and his cock is so hard it's standing up as well as weighing down the waistband of his shorts.

"God, fuck, sweetheart, please," Blaine babbles as they stumble into his bedroom, fumbling with buttons and zippers.  

Kurt pushes him down onto the bed and finishes removing his shoes, socks, jeans, and underwear.  The room is dark, but the light coming in from the hallway makes a silhouette of Kurt's body, fur-thick and wide and inhuman, above his.

"You have the slippery—the liquid?" Kurt drags his claws down Blaine's polo shirt.  The fabric scores but doesn't tear.  Blaine whimpers.  Kurt is so big, so strong.  His hips churn against Blaine's, his cock edging his shorts down his hips.  Blaine's ass  _throbs_  in response.

"Drawer, right there."

"You have to—I can't—my claws—"

Blaine upends the bottle, cups a handful of the lubricant between his legs, then smears the excess along Kurt's long cock, pushing the shorts down completely as he does.  He meant to take his time, but it's as if his common sense has short-circuited—he just  _needs_.  He needs this to happen right now.

Kurt growls softly, and pushes Blaine's legs back to his ears. "You—" He hesitates. "You want, yes?"

"Oh god  _yes_. Fuck me, fuck me."

Watching Kurt grasp himself and line their bodies up is like torture.  And then there's nothing but pressure and burn and so much wet, his ass so full it seems almost physically impossible.  Kurt, bristling and feral and too eager to check himself the way a human would, sinks in all the way, right up to his soft, fur-covered balls.

Blaine cries out. He only gets twenty seconds or so to relax before Kurt's claws dig into the back of his thighs, holding him bent in half against the bed, and those hips begin snapping—uncontrolled thrusts that hammer faster than Blaine's heartbeat.  It's incredible—a month of waiting and wanting and distance and finally Kurt being honest about wanting him like this again.

Being fucked ruthlessly in darkness is incredible; all Blaine feels is where they're slamming together and the shaking of the bed, and then Kurt is huffing against his neck, biting marks from beneath his ear to his collarbone, Blaine's cock rock-hard but neglected on his belly.

"No finish," Kurt whimpers, licking up his throat. "I need.  I need you in me after.  Okay?  Oh—okay?"

"Oh, fuck, oh god, yeah—I won't, I won't, just don't stop." Kurt's girth and length is almost too much to take, but the speed of his thrusts makes it easier, as much friction as filling, and Blaine would be lying if he said he didn't love big cocks and the slight discomfort they bring.

Kurt lasts longer than Blaine expects.  He whines and squirms and gasps, "I can't," and Blaine doesn't feel the spurts filling his ass but he feels them a moment later—they rush out of the scant space between Kurt's cock and his rim, and when Kurt softens they  _gush_ , flooding the indent Blaine's ass makes on the bed.  When he pulls out completely, it's a true mess.  Blaine's throbbing hole just  _empties_.

"Oh my god," he whimpers, reaching down to touch himself where he's sore and soaked and spread.

"Clean," Kurt says, sounding almost stunned, and Blaine has just enough time to grab his soft ears before he slinks down, lapping his scratchy tongue over Blaine's ass in slow, methodical licks.

"Kurt.   _Kurt_. Oh, god."

Kurt burrows in, cold nose and whiskers and fur, licking and licking and licking until Blaine worries he might come just rubbing against his own belly from how good it feels.

"Sweetie, stop. S-stop, too much." His skin absorbs a snarl, and he digs his fingers into the thick fur behind Kurt's ears and down the back of his neck. "So good.  Such a good boy, oh, god—" Kurt's tongue slips inside and then back out, making Blaine twitch.

"Can I sit?" Kurt asks.  Blaine can hear the wet smack of come on Kurt's lips, but at first he has no idea what Kurt is asking for, until he straddles Blaine's waist and crouches over him frog-style on his heels. "Please—" His tail lashes from side to side, knocking across Blaine's legs and the bed, and his ass rocks back and forth. "Please, please,  _please_ , so empty, so wet—"

Blaine steadies his own cock with one shaking hand. "You can, honey.  Come on." With the other, he feels around the sticky, damp fur behind Kurt until he finds his crack, then presses three fingers against his rim to check how open he is—and whines shock when two of the three digits just  _sink in_.  Kurt sobs and closes up around the digits with an audible, wet noise.  He's spread wide but tight and so soft and warm inside.  Blaine works him loose, rolling his wrist in time with Kurt's downward thrusts.  Kurt's tail is stiff and jerking and the hair along his back is bristled, but there is satisfaction in his rhythm now.

"More," he gasps, screwing his hips in ever-quickening circles. "Need—"

"My cock." Blaine presses a third finger inside and begins fucking all three in and out. "Say it for me."

"Need cock,  _y-your_  cock, please."

Shaking at that word spilling so wantonly from Kurt's lips, Blaine rubs the shaft of his cock over Kurt's hole, spreading moisture and letting him feel it. "Sit down.  Come on, sweetie." When Kurt spreads his thick thighs and comes down, Blaine almost loses it then and there—but he holds back, and Kurt's rim closing around the base of his cock grounds him.

"Oh," Kurt moans, sliding down to his knees, his fuzzy legs and the big, floppy paw pads on his feet snugging up close to Blaine's calves as they curl with his toes. "Oh, Blaine.   _Perfect_.  So perfect, so good inside, oh, yes, yes, filling me all the way." Kurt rides him slowly at first, as if savoring every thrust, and then faster as he becomes openly greedy, his whole body vibrating with purrs that shiver down Blaine's cock to settle in his balls.  

Somewhere in between those first few frantic laps and his looming orgasm, Blaine finds himself lost in the intimacy throbbing between them, running his hands up and down Kurt's thighs and then wrapping his hand around Kurt's tapered cock, which is still poking halfway out of its sheath.

"Can you get hard again?" he asks, stroking the pliable, bright red shaft.

Kurt whimpers, thrusting into Blaine's hand. "I t-try." He rocks himself up and down on Blaine's cock, the soft package of his sac swaying between his thighs. "Messy, messy—messy—" That seems to do something for him, because his cock twitches and begins to stiffen.

Blaine ventures a filthy, rasped, "Messy kitty, huh?"

" _Oh_ —"

"Gonna make you even messier.  Want that?"

"P-please!"

Blaine thrusts up in time with his hand stripping Kurt's cock.  Kurt's tail goes rigid and stays that way. "If I keep going like this, will I push all that come right out?"

Kurt's face screws up—embarrassment, need, and frustration. "Yes, yes, yes; so  _much_ , so d-dirty."

"Love you." Blaine feels every inch of the sentiment, from his head to his toes to his heart, which was so lonely before Kurt came into his life. "Want you to feel good."

He feels Kurt come before it happens, feels his ass tighten and sees his balls cinch up and the veins along the shaft of his cock pulse just before floods of thin, pale come stream from the tip of his cock—too much to shoot, so much it  _flows_ , flooding down Blaine's wrist to drip across his chest and belly and down onto the bed.  Kurt makes cat noises when he comes, moaning snarls and mewls, his lips pulling back from his teeth and his tail jerking in midair, his ears flattened back along the sides of his head.

"Give me," he pants, finding the strength to bounce on Blaine's cock. "Give it to me, need—"

Blaine sits up all at once, grasping Kurt's ass and the base of his tail and pulling Kurt down onto his cock, hard and deep.

" _Blaine_!"

"That's it. Close." He's so focused on Kurt's pleasure—on  _breeding_  Kurt properly—he doesn't notice his own orgasm until it happens—his hands scrabble up Kurt's back, dig into the fur there and hold on as he thrusts and thrusts, working himself through the slickness of his own mess.  Kurt's ass spasms around his cock, milking it, and a few weak dribbles of moisture leak from the tip of Kurt's cock to smear fresh wet tracks across his chest.

" _Oh_ ," Kurt drawls, his head falling back, "oh, yes.  Yes.  Blaine."

Blaine can't let go, not even when he realizes how destroyed the bed is, or that his hybrid foster most likely overheard everything they did.  He buries his face in Kurt's chest and breathes.  It feels as if every bold, needy, physical thing he just experienced is being eclipsed the intensity of the things they can't touch or taste—how easy it is to love Kurt and be loved by him in return.

"Shh, shh," Kurt croons, purring as he strokes Blaine's hair back with his crooked fingers.  Blaine's face is wet with tears. "I take care, shh, shh."

"Don't want you to ever think I don't want this with you.  Want everything with you."

"I believe." Kurt guides them down onto the mattress, then wrinkles his nose after he takes stock of the mess. "Clean and then sleep?"

"Yes—and shower, too."

Kurt's neck hair bristles. "If you say."

"This level of mess definitely calls for soap and water, honey.  You can stand at the back if you want.  No spray, okay?" Blaine laughs at the disgruntled look on Kurt's face.

"Okay, okay," Kurt says, with a resigned sigh.  Blaine knows he  _wants_  to be clean—he's simply not a fan of human bathing methods.

They strip the bed down to the mattress and then put on fresh linens.  They shower together, Blaine passing a lathered loofah back so that Kurt doesn't have to stand under the shower head, and then helping him rinse off as quickly and lightly as possible.  He looks silly soaking wet, skinny and a bit deranged, and rushes Blaine out of the bathroom so he can use the hair dryer in private.

Blaine opens the bedroom windows and lights a few scented candles to get the sex-musk smell out of the room.  He goes to the kitchen to get them protein bars and bottled water.  Kurt joins him a while later, wearing a pair of boxers and now only partially damp.  He crawls across the sheets on all fours.  He looks and smells wonderful.  Blaine cups his face and kisses him.

"Did you see my foster at all?"

"No." Kurt's nose is in the air. "He is snoring very loud."

"As if you don't snore, silly."

"I do not!"

Blaine grins, running his hands down Kurt's sides. "Come here and keep me warm."

"Mean.  Why I be nice to you?"

"Well..." Blaine runs his fingertips from the base of Kurt's tail to below it, stroking the tender, used skin and disturbed fur there. "I take care of you, remember?"

Kurt's pupils grow wide. "Cheat."

Blaine cups the fuzzy—and now somewhat deflated—sac that lies even lower. "Maybe."

"Oh, you are lucky my heat time is not now, Blaine." Kurt's whole body is trembling. "We would be change sheets again soon if you tease like this."

They go down kissing, tangling legs and tongues until Blaine is moments away from purring himself.  This is what has been missing since Kurt moved out—being close in private without limitations, without fear of insult or sending the wrong message.  He's so glad they were together like this tonight.

When Kurt is still, his belly rising and falling slowly and evenly, Blaine pets him there and along his back and beneath his chin, savoring every purr and twitch.  He presses kisses down Kurt's neck and arms and hands, nuzzling into Kurt's soft fur as deeply as he can.

"You are my mate," Kurt murmurs, half-asleep. "Mate, Blaine.  Say yes."

"I've been your mate since the moment we met."

A pause, and then, "That's silly.  How?"

"I wanted you to stay with me.  I just didn't know why."

"I did not understand this then, but I learned." Kurt rolls over on top of him, settling over his chest with well-placed kneading passes of his paws. "Not always smart, my mate, but still mine."

Blaine smiles. "Yes. And you're mine."

Kurt's purrs are intense enough to make the blankets quiver.


End file.
